


Rick Macy, This Is Your Life

by theyshotmyclown



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Rickren, idk why i need to warn you about that if you're in the rickren tag i mean really, it's very rick centric though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyshotmyclown/pseuds/theyshotmyclown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's sixteen and Kieren looks at him like he's made of bronze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rick Macy, This Is Your Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrioritiesSorted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrioritiesSorted/gifts).



> she didn't tell me about her birthday, so in true ITF style, Beatrice gets angsty Rick Fic.

Rick Macy is five the first time he sees his father rise up, imposing and terrifying despite his stature, and use his voice to crush his wife back into her chair. Something about a wrongly placed fork, a conversation she shouldn't have had, a look Rick gave him before dinner; Rick's view of his father as the protector starts to waver.

 

When he's eight he falls and scrapes his knees, and Bill tells him only girls cry. His eyes don't dry up until he digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands, and even then he can't meet his father's gaze. 

 

When he's ten Rick brings Kieren home from school and they play football in the garden until Janet Macy calls them in for tea. They sit at the table, elbows knocking together, and for once, Rick isn't worried about getting a spot of ketchup on the woodwork.

 

On his twelfth birthday, Bill gives Rick a pocket knife and a smack on the back. He says he's proud of him, and Rick grips the pocket knife until he believes it.

 

Thirteen, and he can't help the feelings that clog his throat when he sees Kieren's eyes crinkle in a smile. He hears every word his father has ever directed at _those sort of men_ and tells himself they don't apply, they can't apply, because he looks at girls too. Next time Bill calls a celebrity with a limp wrist something that knocks the breath out of him, Rick says it too just to get some air back into his lungs.

 

On his fourteenth birthday, Kieren makes him a mix CD. It's in a plastic wallet with _love, Ren_ scrawled across it in sharpie and includes a card – the front a painted replica of a photo of the two of them, the back a list of tracks in black pen – that Rick buries under papers and fevered wishes in his desk drawer, long after his father has taken the CD and snapped it into shards.

 

He's sixteen and Kieren looks at him like he's made of bronze.

 

When he's seventeen, the walls crumble around him when his dad starts talking about the army and a career out of Roarton. Rick sits in Kieren's room and spits venom about his father, and Kieren listens and wraps slim fingers around his wrists until his fingertips imprint _I love you_ onto his skin. 

 

Eighteen, lost. Gunfire and sand and explosions and Rick is out of his depth.

 

Eighteen, found. He's home but not the same, and the jagged seams of his face let everyone know. His father pretends he doesn't see them. Others follow Bill's lead, and pass him drinks he pretends he can stomach. The bile rises in his throat and he grins anyway. 

 

Eighteen, and though he can't feel anything, a shot of electricity hits him in the chest when he sees those wide brown eyes.

 

Eighteen, and the knife is cold at the nape of his neck. 


End file.
